"Because you yourself had not learned how. But—at times—now looking back to it—I think—I think we were very near to it—at moments. . . . And then that dreadful dream closed down on us again. . . . And then—the end."
"If you could have held out," he breathed; "if I could have helped! It was I who failed you after all!"
For a long while they sat in silence; Mrs. Ruthven's white furs now covered her face. At last the carriage stopped.
As he sprang to the curb he became aware of another vehicle standing in front of the house—a cab—from which Mrs. Ruthven's maid descended.
"What is she doing here?" he asked, turning in astonishment to Mrs. Ruthven.
"Phil," she said in a low voice, "I knew you had taken this place. Gerald told me. Forgive me—but when I saw you under the awning it came to me in a flash what to do. And I've done it. . . . Are you sorry?"
"No. . . . Did Gerald tell you that I had taken this place?"
"Yes; I asked him."
Selwyn looked at her gravely; and she looked him very steadily in the eyes.
"Before I go—may I say one more word?" he asked gently.